


It's All Just a Cover - Part 4 - The Afterparty

by Winchester_with_Wings



Series: It's All Just a Cover - Rockstar AU [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, DO NOT COPY, DO NOT REPLICATE, Do Not Translate, Drug Use, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Groupie!Dean, Groupie!Sam, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Rockstar AU, Rockstar!Gabriel, Rockstar!Reader, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll, Smut, possible implied f/f
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 22:46:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5108384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winchester_with_Wings/pseuds/Winchester_with_Wings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SERIES SUMMARY:<br/>The Reader is the lead singer in an eclectic cover band. Her brother Gabriel is the drummer with candy cane drumsticks. The Reader is content living the facade of a rockstar lifestyle until her brother Gabe invites Sam backstage and his brother Dean comes with and ultimately makes her reconsider who she is and what she wants. </p><p>PART FOUR SUMMARY:<br/>After the meet & greet, Heaven’s Rebellion takes the after-party to a nightclub called The Devil’s Trap. Fun on the dance floor ensues between you and Dean, Sam and Gabe, and a bunch of other people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's All Just a Cover - Part 4 - The Afterparty

**Author's Note:**

> SMUT!!!! Finally!! I’m sorry this took so long. Work has been crazy busy and honestly it was sorta hard to put Dean Winchester in a nightclub. LOL Anyways, there’s still so much of this story to be told. This is my first SPN series so feedback is appreciated. 
> 
> Also, I'm trying Nanowrimo for the first time this year, so I don't know when the next part of this story will be posted. I don't really have a set schedule. I'm sorry. I hope you enjoy this! I post drabbles and one shots between my series updates so check em out! :) xoxo
> 
> The Set-List (apparently the DJ likes some older stuff):  
> [ On the Floor ](https://youtu.be/t4H_Zoh7G5A) by J.Lo feat Pitbull  
> [ Goin In ](https://youtu.be/z5W7DVFKrcs) by J.Lo feat Flo Rida  
> [ Give it to Me ](https://youtu.be/RgoiSJ23cSc) by Timbaland feat Justin Timberlake & Nelly Furtado  
> [ Go Girl ](https://youtu.be/tiC8MapOLHw) by Pitbull  
> [ Shots ](https://youtu.be/XNtTEibFvlQ) by LMFAO  
> [SONGS BELOW ACTUALLY REFERENCED IN THE FIC]  
> [ Me Against the Music ](https://vimeo.com/67414839) by Britney Spears feat Madonna (Rishi Rich's Desi Kulcha Remix)  
> [ Yeah! ](https://youtu.be/GxBSyx85Kp8) by Usher feat Lil Jon & Ludacris  
> [ Dive ](https://youtu.be/VwBj76jVgZI) by Usher

You revel in the sound of Black Beauty.

The screams of your fans is nothing compared to his rumble. While you imagine the concert has deafened you, muffled your sense of hearing, it is Black Beauty who breaks through the barrier. Your baby is like a breath of fresh air. He sobers you.

You rev your motorcycle and set off for the exit. You notice Dean hold onto you tighter like the jump of your bike surprised him. But it’s you who’s startled upon exiting the parking garage. The street is lit up by headlights behind you and an even louder engine roars to life.

“That’s my baby,” Dean says in your ear. Once you’re set on a straight path, you look over your shoulder and see a sleek classic car. If that’s Dean’s car, Sam must be behind the wheel. The car sounds powerful. So, not to be undone, you rev your bike and speed up, racing down the couple of blocks to the club.

You ride past the entrance to the club, the name The Devil’s Trap lit up in red neon reflecting off your bike and Dean’s car. You find several parking spots around the corner. The classic car which you ascertain is an impala when it gets closer pulls in right behind you and then another car, Gadreel’s SUV (basically the band van), parks across the street.

Balthazar, Gadreel, Cas, Anna and everyone else who’d decided to come pile out of the car. Some of them are groupies you vaguely recognize but not by name. But they’re hanging on Balthazar and Gadreel and that explains that. When you turn off Black Beauty and kick out the stand to hold him up, the noise of the city floods your senses. And the moment that the motorcycle isn’t vibrating your whole body, you’re suddenly more aware Dean’s body pressed up against you.

You never let strangers on your bike. The only people who have been allowed to ride with you so far are your bandmates, Cas and Anna. Apparently you’d been so caught up playing the arrogant rockstar that you’d forgotten that and let a stranger get close to you on your most cherished possession. What’s wrong with you?? You tell yourself that it couldn’t possibly be because Dean is special…because he’s not…at least that’s what you’re trying to convince yourself. He’s just another potential groupie–even though the term doesn’t suit him well.

Dean gets off the bike first. He offers you his hand to stabilize yourself while you swing your leg over your bike. You don’t need it but you take it to be nice. Dean’s fingers curl around yours for a millisecond before you both reclaim your hands.

Sam and Gabriel climb out of Dean’s impala. You’re giving the car an impressed once over–while taking note of Dean’s proud grin–when Sam’s voice chimes in.

“How long have you had your motorcycle, Y/N?”

“Almost four years,” you answer, your eyes still transfixed by the pristine condition of Dean’s car. Everyone from all three vehicles is gathered around Dean’s Baby and Black Beauty.

“Shouldn’t you be wearing a helmet?” he asks with a touch of concern you find odd and sweet at the same time, since you only just met the man. Gabe bursts out in laughter before you can respond.

“Oh Sammy-boy,” Gabe chides him, grasping Sam’s forearm and squeezing (obviously with ulterior motives). “Y/N doesn’t wear helmets. She’s been riding motorcycles since she was fourteen. She knows how to handle herself.” You shrug and humbly smile, winking at your brother for always having your back. It’s not the first time someone brought up safety gear but you’re good; you’ve never been in an accident, not on a motorcycle.

“I have some sexy leather jackets, Sam. Don’t worry about me,” you wink at him too and that makes him blush. Gabe frowns at you for a second–obviously mad that you’re flirting with his ‘dibs’ prospect. You instantly back off because you didn’t mean to. Now that you’re surrounded by your band and some fans, you’d automatically switch gears into that cocky personality. Not that your actual personality isn’t cocky too.

Gadreel takes the lead now, diverting the conversation and attention. He gestures towards the street where the club entrance is and says, “Shall we?” You notice a CD sticking out of his pocket. Knowing it’s purpose, you ignore and follow after him, Balthazar and the rest of the group. You grab Dean’s hand and wrap his arm around your shoulders, tucking yourself into his body. He doesn’t protest, he actually smiles and leaves his arm there when you release him.

“Ready to have some fun?” you ask, looking up into his stunning green eyes. Dean gives you a flirty smirk and you’re glad that he’s holding you close to his body because he’s so handsome that it makes your knees weak. Or maybe that has to do with the fact that you haven’t eaten anything except a couple candy bars and a small bag of chips in the last several hours…

“I haven’t been to a nightclub in a while. I’m more of a bar man. Don’t really dance but I hustle a good game of pool,” Dean responds. You quirk an interested eyebrow.

“Hmm, I know a good bar. Maybe next time you’ll have to prove it,” you wink, a little surprised yourself that you’d implied another meeting. “But tonight, we’re gonna dance.” You get out from under his arm and take hold of his hand as your group funnels toward the velvet rope entrance.

The line to enter The Devil’s Trap is long but the bouncer knows you and Anna. He takes one look at you two and the other women accompanying the band and lets your group in.

“How was the show tonight?” he asks as you pass him.

“Stellar as always. Thanks for letting us in, Cliff!” You blow him a kiss and the big man grins.

“And I thought I was a charmer,” Dean says in your ear. You feign insult and respond with a challenging gaze.

“You had me fooled.” Dean chuckles, squeezing your hand.

Walking into the club, past soundproofed walls, the music hits you all with a fast-paced bass thumping in your chest. There’s maybe five feet of open space by the entrance and then the rest of the large nightclub is a pulsing sea of bodies moving to the music lit up by multi-colored spotlights and strobe lights.

Pushing into the crowd, you’re pressed back into Dean’s body. His hands rest lightly on your hips like you’re a lifeline to be tethered to. You know that it’s because the crowd is huge and he doesn’t want to lose track of your group–Sam and Gabe are up ahead and you’re actually holding onto Cas’ hand for the very same reason–but you’re still liking the way you’re up against Dean. Your hips and your ass line up perfectly with his hips.

That’ll make dancing fun. It would also facilitate some other activities.

You stare blankly and blink into the strobe light flashes. Where did that idea come from? Sure you’re being flirty but did you actually want something to happen between you and Dean? Apparently Dean had a way of making you forget that you’re pretending to be someone you’re not, and you’d only just met him. That’s not good, right?

You stumble right into Cas as he comes up short. Gadreel has backtracked from the front of the group. He’s resting his hand on Cas’ shoulder as he tries to get close to your ear so he can speak to you. He gets within 5 inches and then still has to shout to be heard.

“Do you think Crowley is here tonight?” he asks you. You tilt your head to listen then turn back to answer and shout at his ear.

“I have no idea.”

“Who should I give this to then?” He holds up the CD that had been in his pocket. You pause to answer, looking around. You catch sight of a man in sleek silver suit on the second floor of the club where you assume the manager’s office is. “Lucifer?” You vehemently shake your head.

“I don’t see Meg but you should try her. If you can’t find her, go ask Ruby.” You shoot out the names of women you barely know. You point to the bar where Ruby, a tall dark-haired bartender, is mixing drinks. She runs the bar and is the lowest on the list of connections you and Gadreel have to a music producer.

“Okay, I’ll try that. Jo and Pam are here. They have a booth. See if we can join them?” Gadreel splits off from your group in the direction of the bar as you urge Cas to keep pushing on. Booths here at the club are first come first serve and it’s easier to get drinks if you’re sitting at one. So you keep your eyes open for the women Gadreel had mentioned. Sure enough you find them occupying a large booth with plenty of room to spare.

Pam and Jo were happy to see your group and offered you seats before you even had a chance to ask. Everyone sits down except you and Dean because they’re scooting down and making room. You hug Jo and exchange kisses on the cheek with Pam. You introduce them to Dean and Gabe introduces Sam. Both Winchester boys are sticking close to their respective rockstar sibling.

“Ooh, brothers?” Pam ogled Sam and Dean. She wiggles a finger at you and Gabe. “Looks like you two had a successful show. Sure you don’t wanna share the wealth? Or are you keeping it in the family?” She winks at you and you genuinely laugh. Sam’s blushing again, likely because of her comment but also because Gabe has put a territorial hand on Sam’s knee. Sam doesn’t seem to object.

“Paws off, Pam! Hunt down your own man,” Gabe says, playfully sneering. Pam shrugs and sets her gaze on you.

“We’ll see. The night is young. I haven’t made up my mind on _what_ I want tonight.” Biting her lip, she raises a hand to caress your cheek and draws a line along your jaw with her index finger. The innuendo is obvious. Pam loves to hit on you but other than some raunchy dancing you’ve never fully succumbed to her seductions. She winks at you and then uses that finger that touched your face to point between you and Dean. “You two have fun tonight. And save me a dance?” She’s asking you, not Dean. You nod in reply as Pam walks away.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice that Dean has raised his eyebrows in surprise. But one of his hands is still on your hip and his grip has tightened a little bit like he doesn’t want to share you. That’s promising.

You look up at him. “You’re still going to dance with me right? Or should I dance with Pam all night?” You quirk an eyebrow at him, hopefully concealing your bluff. Dean smiles down at you.

“I’d be crazy to say no to dancing with you,” Dean replies. _Good answer_. You beam up at him with a genuine smile.

“Let’s get some drinks first,” you suggest, finally sitting down at the booth. No one in the group noticed your exchange with Pam except for maybe Sam. He’s grinning at Dean as he sits next to you.

“Hey Sammy! What do you want to drink?” Gabe asks him, recapturing his attention. “I like the chocolate monkey. It’s like a chocolate banana milkshake with rum. So good.” Sam just chuckles and leans in closer to Gabe to look over the menu.

Dean settles in beside you. He’s so close to you that his thigh lines up against yours. You look down at his legs and how he sits. Is he bowlegged? It’s so simple but something about how it affects how he sits (and probably stands) makes him even more attractive. Dean stretches his arm along the back of the booth and it’s so close to just being around your shoulders again. You cross one leg over the other and lean into him. He smiles at you, letting his arm curl around your shoulders.

“So what was Gadreel doing with that CD?” he asks you as a round of shots is delivered to the whole booth. Dean orders some sort of whiskey and you accept whatever vodka or tequila shots that are placed in front of you. Dean seems genuinely curious. Is he really interested in the band? More often than not your fans give you attention for how you look, how you act on stage.

“Gadreel writes most of our original songs. He’s trying to get us a record deal. This club is owned by a man named Crowley. He’s a music producer,” you download Dean on Gadreel’s plans. “But Crowley’s rarely here. He was gonna give the CD to Lucifer—he actually runs this place. But Lucifer doesn’t care about that. He’d probably toss the CD.” The alcohol has loosened your tongue and you’re suddenly happy to gossip. Dean listens intently, though he looks like he’s enjoying your delivery of the details rather than the actual information. “Meg is Crowley’s assistant. She also runs this place; she’s assistant manager or something; probably does the office work. Lucifer likes to mingle in the crowd while Meg keeps the place in business. Ruby,” you sneer at the bartender, pointing her out. “She’s a bad seed. She runs the bar but she also runs _other stuff_ if you know what I mean.” You glare at her with a disapproving frown. Dean just smiles at you.

“You sound like you know all of these people. Why’s it so hard to get your demo to Crowley?” Dean asks. You shoot back another shot and chase it with some fruity drink. You’re vaguely aware of Gabriel glancing at you with a confused frown. You rarely drink to excess but tonight seems like it could be the exception. You don’t know why. Maybe because you’re so aware of Dean’s focus on you. He probably has an expectation of what kind of person you are and, damn the peer pressure, you feel compelled to meet that expectation.

When you get drunk, you get happy. You get hyper. You get goofy. You become more open and outgoing. That’s why when you have meet and greets, you chug mountain dew rather vodka. Your sugar high is equal to your drunkenness without the loss of control. With sugar, you’re still sober and aware of your actions. With alcohol, you’re not sure. You’re so much about controlling the situation and your behavior that you’ve never really let yourself get hammered. Tipsy maybe, but never blackout drunk. You’re pretty sure that if that were to ever happen you would go mad until you’d remembered everything.

You’re not sure if you’re drunk or if Dean’s company and interest in the topic has you excited but you turn your body to face him. You’re animated, using your hands as you speak.

“See Crowley…? He owns the place but he’s like a silent owner. He shows up here maybe once every two weeks. Unless we come here every night, it’s nearly impossible to catch him. Gad is convinced that if he can get our CD to Crowley, then we’ll get a deal. Crowley’s label, Hellhound Records, they love rock and roll. It all makes sense. It’s just impossible to get to Crowley. Gad and I have spent weeks trying to get the Demo to him. We always come in on the wrong night. Ruby’s our best bet now. And if Ruby likes the way Gad looks, which _she will_ , then we’ve got a chance.” You end you rant, feeling like an evil genius. Dean just looks over to where Gadreel is standing at the bar.

“What makes you think Ruby will like Gadreel?” He gives you a teasing and skeptical look.

“Because he’s Gadreel and all the ladies love him and his looks,” you scoff. Dean’s smile hardens into sexy smirk. He leans in closer to your face. You back off and take another shot before meeting his gaze.

“Do _you_ like the way Gadreel looks?” He’s baiting you. You bite your bottom lip and notice Dean’s gaze drift to your mouth.

“I like the way _you_ look, Dean Winchester.” That must be the right answer because Dean’s smile is so big that it gives him crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes.

“So how about we go dance?” He takes your hand and you follow him onto the dance floor.

The DJ plays some older hits. Club remixes of songs by J.Lo, Ludacris, LMFAO. Some of the newer stuff is mixed in, Nicki Minaj, Beyoncé and Rihanna and some up and comers too. Pitbull consistently shows up in almost every song.

At first it doesn’t seem like Dean knows how to dance to this kind of music. You guide him with your body, swaying your hips and rolling your body, bouncing to the beats. You press yourself against him, your back to his chest.

You reach up and behind you with your left arm to cup the back of his head and bring his face closer to yours. His lips press to your neck a couple of times. You keep your hand on the back of his neck. You’re too entranced by the proximity of his mouth to yours to notice he’s running his hand down that arm towards your armpit.

It’s like that scene from _Dirty Dancing_ , where Swayze’s character is teaching Baby the routine and there’s that one move that tickles her and breaks her concentration. ([x](http://ak-hdl.buzzfed.com/static/2013-11/enhanced/webdr07/22/16/anigif_enhanced-buzz-6984-1385154754-10.gif)) 

You flinch and bursting into a laugh as he seems to deliberately tickle you. You lurch forward as much as the crowd will let you, bending at the waist to get away from him but his right arm is wrapped around you and he keeps you from escaping. You spin around in his arms and giggle.

“That was straight out of _Dirty Dancing_ ,” you tease. He’s got both arms wrapped around you and your arms are looped around his neck but you’re still trying to clench your arms so that you can protect your armpits. Dean just smiles at you and shouts his reply because a new song just started and it’s ridiculously loud.

“Swayze movie! Swayze always gets a pass!” You toss your head back and laugh. Of course. Of course Dean is a Swayze fan.

The song is a remix of Britney Spears’ “Me Against the Music.” Anna, Jo, and Pam jump out of nowhere and start calling your name, beckoning you to join their dancing. You unlink your hands from behind his head and rest your palms on his strong chest. You touch the tip of your tongue to your point of your canine tooth and raise one eyebrow, giving him you flirtiest look. He seems to reluctantly release you.

The alcohol fogging your brain is probably the only reason you think this is a good idea. You give Pam that dance she wanted. All four of you are pressed together because of the crowd but that’s the point. Like college party girls, you’re dancing, jumping and grinding to the fast paced music. Anna actually still has a drink in her hand that by some miracle hasn’t spilled. You take a couple sips as she offers it. You see Dean has returned to the booth and is taking some shots with Sam and Gabe. But his eyes never leave you. You may be dancing _with_ Pam and the other girls but you’re dancing _for_ Dean.

Why? Because the alcohol tells you it’s sexy.

You hope so because you’re probably making a total fool of yourself. Even at one point Balthazar, Cas, Gad, and Gabe are staring at you–your step brother of course has different reasons, he’s completely shocked.

Pam is getting handsy. But luckily, the song ends a few moments later. You all retreat to the booth to take a couple more shots. You even take a sip of Dean’s whiskey drink and you instantly start coughing, not used to the deep burn but enjoying the warmth that settles in your chest. You look up at Dean and he’s grinning like he’s suppressing a laugh. You scowl at him in return.

The next song is “Yeah!” by Usher. It’s remixed slightly but just as good as the original. The whole club seems to respond to it. Almost everyone–Gabriel, Sam, Balthazar, his groupies, Jo, and Anna–rush to the dance floor, pulling you along. You grab onto Dean by his leather jacket. Cas and Gadreel stay behind in the booth.

You wrap yourself in Dean’s arms again and lean back into his chest. Your hands are on his and you guide the dancing you’re doing, a mild and rhythmic form of grinding. He smells like whiskey, musk, and leather. It’s a combination of scents that you’re unfamiliar with. Your ex was always so crisp and clean with a different expensive cologne every day. You push those thoughts out of your head. You don’t want to think about Michael.

You and Dean are secretly watching Gabriel and Sam. They’re not grinding like other pairs, there’s distance between their bodies but you can definitely tell that they’re dancing together. Anna and Jo are dancing with them so they just look like a group of four having fun but you can see that Sam’s gaze is locked on Gabriel. Gabriel moves closer to Sam and Sam leans down the considerable difference for Gabe to speak in his ear.

Whatever he says to Sam, makes him laugh. At the same time, Gabe’s linked both of their hands, palm to palm and fingers entwined. They use it as their anchor, keeping them close together as they dance and talk.

You’re grinning in surprise and disbelief. Gabe and Sam seem to be getting along really well. You and Dean are too, you note. You were sure that he was watching Gabe and Sam with you but when you turn your head slightly to look at him, you realize that his eyes are closed and he’s been nuzzling your hair, completely engulfed in your dancing. The very idea is intoxicating. His eyes flutter open and you get lost in the sparking green but also notice his pupils have dilated.

The music changes again. It’s slower and everyone adjusts their dancing accordingly. Your body is flush up against him and the ebb and flow of the music and your dancing is calming. You feel like you’re being swept away out to sea but Dean will keep you afloat. You feel like your heartbeats and breathing have synchronized. All of this is sobering you in this very moment. The fog of your drunkenness is threatening to carry you away, you’re going to float away but Dean is your rock, your anchor.

_“I’ll be inside when the tides are rolling baby / You’ll be my place to hide, all night, all night, baby / I’m not afraid to try / And I knew I, don’t mind playing in the rain / And I was hoping that I get to take that dive.”_

Your head falls back and your cheek is pressed to Dean’s. You’re both looking into each other’s eyes, both of you so aware of the tension, the hardness pressing against your backside and the heat pooling in your belly–which has nothing to do with the whiskey.

Music has always been a part of you, running through your veins, serving as an outlet, influencing important decisions and saying what you can’t seem to say. It’s only fitting that this song gives you the final push.

_“And ever since we first met I knew that I / I knew I was ready baby to take that dive.”_

You tilt your head just enough for your lips to finally touch Dean’s. His plump lips are so soft and tender and you lose yourself instantly in the passion of just your first kiss with him. His hands move so that he can hold your head with one hand, his thumb caressing your jaw right under your ear, and the other one holding onto your hip to turn you to face him fully. He wraps that arm around your waist and pulls you in close, deepening the next kiss. His tongue licks at your upper lip and then his teeth nip at your bottom lip and you grant him entrance. You’re carding your fingers through his dirty blonde hair. You moan into his mouth and Dean’s grip tightens on you. He pulls away, his lips are parted, swollen and slick.

You chew on your bottom lip and then kiss him again. “Let’s get out of here.”

 

* * *

 

The drive back to Dean’s place was agony. He’d convinced Y/N to let him drive the impala because despite what she might’ve said, he could tell that she was drunk enough that driving her motorcycle wasn’t the best idea.

If she was still sorta drunk when they got to his place, Dean had resolved to end the night there. As much as he wanted to be with her, he didn’t want this to be the first time if she couldn’t consent or wouldn’t remember it.

She’s sitting so close to Dean in the front seat of the Impala that he’s not even sure if they’ll make it inside. Her hand is resting on his thigh, sliding up higher and higher. She’s kissing his neck and his jeans are getting tighter and tighter. God, she’s so beautiful. And such a badass too. To be honest, Dean might be intimidated by her. She’s basically a rockstar and she’s chosen him tonight. Does that make him a groupie? He doesn’t care.

The moment they walk in, Y/N pounces on him. He tries to get a word in, to judge her sobriety.

“Dean, I want this.”

That’s all he needs. He picks her up and wraps her legs around his hips. He carries her to his room and then sets her down on his bed. He pulls off his shirt and her hands fly to his belt buckle.

They strip down in record time, the only hiccup being Y/N’s leather pants. They stick to her because of sweat from the nightclub and their pawing at each other. They rip. It wasn’t Dean’s fault.

Her body is glorious, soft and supple in all the right places. He gives every inch of her body his attention, first with his fingers and then his mouth. After two orgasms, she’s putty in his hands, moaning and whimpering with pleasure. It turns him on even more, even though he’s been hard since the club.

He hadn’t known how to dance at the nightclub but he’d definitely enjoyed Y/N’s dancing. Her sexy ass rubbing against him with the perfect amount of friction. And then when she danced with that woman Pam…even though he hadn’t even kissed her yet he’d been jealous.

He didn’t know what his chances were but he wanted…no, he _needed_ to lay his claim on her. He was determined to leave marks on her and from the noises she was making, he’d bet that she’d let him give her as many hickeys as he pleased. But his cock is aching to be inside her. She’s keening and arching her back off the bed.

He slides into her and her warmth is slick and tight. Dean growls as he bottoms out, filling her and stretching her. Y/N clutches at Dean’s ass, begging him to move. So he does. He starts pumping in and out of her slowly. But she wants it harder and so does he.

He changes their position so that he’s laying on his back and she’s sitting on top of him. She tries to ride it and it feels amazing but Dean is feeling rabid with desire. He grabs her hips and holds her up and in one place and he starts to rapidly thrust up into her.

The look on her face is addictive. The pleasure she is feeling is conveyed vocally and Dean loves it. He’s grunting and feeling the tightening in his stomach that suggests he’s close to his climax. But Dean wants to make Y/N come again. He rolls her onto her back and rubs her clit as he pounds into her.

“Oh god, Dean. Yes…mmnnf…God yes I’m gonna…I’m gonna come,” she’s ranting like he’s possessed her and his thrusts become harder and erratic.

“Yeah baby, come for me, Y/N. I wanna feel you cum on my dick,” Dean growls. At the last second, he lifts her hips off the bed and he can tell that he’s hit the sweet spot as she cries out his name. She tightens around him and Dean follows her, her orgasm milking him for all he’s got.

He collapses on top of her, falling into her arms. Dean and Y/N lazily kiss until they’ve both come down from their orgasms. Dean then slides out of her and rolls onto his side. Y/N cuddles up to him and falls asleep with her head on his chest listening to the lullaby of his heartbeat.

 

* * *

 

The smell of bacon is your alarm clock this morning.

You roll over in an unfamiliar bed, completely naked. Your body aches in all the right places, suggesting that the sex you had last night with Dean was great. You’re fuzzy on some of the details and that makes you angry. That’s exactly why you don’t like to drink.

Dean is nowhere to be found. He’s probably the source of the bacon. You walk around his bedroom, admiring his vinyl collection and seeking out your clothing. You can’t find your pants.

So you walk out of the bedroom in just your panties, bra, and shirt. You’re hair is ridiculously messy thanks to the sex and the teasing you’d done to it before the concert last night. You gather all of your hair on top of your head and work it into a bun. You run your hands over the buzzed sides of your head. The texture is soothing.

You stop in the hallway before the kitchen comes into view. You can hear Sam and Dean conversing in the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

Sam walks into the kitchen just as Dean is sliding a pancake out of the frying pan and onto a plate. His shaggy brown hair is a mess and Dean greets him with a chuckle.

“Morning, Sunshine!” he says a little louder than necessary. Sam flinches, his hangover apparent. Being the caring older brother that he is, Dean pours him a glass of orange juice. Sam notices the third plate.

“So, things went well with Y/N?” he asks, resting his chin in his hand, propping his elbow on the kitchen island. Dean smiles and shrugs.

“Yeah, you could say that.” Sam sneers as he takes a sip of the orange juice, the taste of it clearly not being pleasant this morning.

“Well I’m just pointing it out because I don’t remember the last time you made breakfast for a woman, much less brought her home instead of going to her place,” Sam clarifies. Dean pauses to mull that over. He has a point. He gestures at Sam with the spatula.

“But doesn’t she live with her band? That’s like four guys as roommates. That equals four overprotective brotherly types, including her actual older brother. Speaking of…” Dean trails off, trying to imply his questions without voicing them. Sam shakes his head at Dean, meaning that he’s waiting for Dean to elaborate. Dean starts serving the breakfast to all three plates. “Oh come on, Sammy, you know what I’m saying. You and Gabe…is that gonna be a thing?” There’s no judgment in Dean’s voice.

Sam shrugs and gives him one of those sturgeon face frowns. “I don’t know.”

“Well it’s obvious that he’s into you. He was pretty affectionate last night. Don’t lead him on,” Dean advises him, using a butter knife as emphasis and to point at him. He goes back to buttering Sam’s pancakes and then his own. Sam shrugs again. Dean drops the knife and leans into the counter with both hands planted on the surface. “Seriously? That’s how you decide to come out to me? Your best friend. Your brother. You just shrug?” Now Dean is the one frowning.

“I don’t know, Dean. I mean, Gabe’s cute. I don’t see why I can’t let it play out and see where it goes.” Sam’s head sort of hangs with that last sentence like he’s not sure if that was the right thing to say. Dean accepts his answer.

“Alright man. You’re my brother. No matter what,” he reassures him. Sam’s shoulders shift as if a weight has been lifted. Sam watches as Dean pours some coffee and orange juice and serves Y/N’s plate.

“You must be really interested in her,” Sam comments, pouring syrup on his pancakes.

“Well yeah, have you seen her? Oh wait, she’s not your type,” Dean smirks at Sam, clearly thinking he’s hilarious. Sam rebuts with one of his classic bitchfaces.

That’s when Y/N walks into the kitchen in just her shirt and panties. Dean’s dick reacts instantly. When Sam notices her, he instantly diverts his gaze back to his breakfast.

“Morning,” Dean greets her with a sweet smile. She ducks her head and tugs on her shirt, stretching it to make it a little longer.

“Morning,” she mumbles. “G’morning, Sam. I didn’t realize you lived here.”

“Yeah, law school is expensive so it helps to live with Dean,” Sam explains before stuffing his mouth with more pancakes. Dean gestures to the seat in front of her plate on the island and she takes it. While the awkward tension in the room is palpable, Dean is trying suppress a grin.

For having the sides of her head buzzed, Y/N still has a lot of hair. She’s pulled it all into a perfectly round bun on top of her head. Some of her bangs are hanging in her face but she sweeps them aside. She looks like Tinkerbell.

“Umm…I can’t find my pants,” she murmurs, seeming to fiddle with the idea of picking up some of the bacon on her plate. Even though Sam’s head is down, a small smile pulls at the corners of his mouth.

“Oh um, right, I guess you don’t remember but uh…your pants got torn up last night,” Dean explains, knowing full well how that must sound to Sam. Y/N finally looks Dean straight in the eye and it’s a bewildered look.

“You ripped my pants off?”

Sam snorts while sipping his orange juice. Dean rubs the back of his neck and chuckles.

“Uh, no sweetheart. You did.” Y/N seems surprised by the pet name but she lets it slide. “The club made them stick to you. You couldn’t get them off.” Dean is slow to explain, hoping to jog her memory. He hadn’t realized that she wouldn’t remember last night. There’s a slight twinge of hurt in the back of his mind. But Y/N’s face lights up in understanding.

“Oh yeah…I remember that now.”

“You can borrow a pair of my sweatpants if you like?” Dean offers. Y/N nods, finally starting to eat breakfast. Dean digs in as well.

“Yeah, I might need them,” she accepts. She take a bite of her pancakes and looks over at Sam. “Is Gabe here?” Dean smirks at Sam as he noticeably blushes. He mutters a quiet ‘no’. “Wow, you resisted him. Well I mean I guess that’d be easy to do since you’re straight,” Y/N explains to herself.

“Well, maybe not,” Dean interrupts. Sam shoots Dean any angry glare. Y/N doesn’t seem to care or notice.

“Oh, okay, you’re playing hard to get. Respect.” That last word and the way she says almost certainly implies some sort of irony to the fact that she and Dean had ended up in bed together on the first night.

While eating and after some small talk, during which Dean retrieved a pair of sweatpants that she didn’t put on right away, Y/N seemed to have a sudden realization.

“How did we get here?” she asks.

“My baby. The impala,” Dean answers. Her eyes go wide.

“Where’s _my_ baby? Where’s my bike?” There a frantic rise in her tone like she’s on the verge of panic.

“Out front,” Sam answers.

Without even thinking about her current state of dress, Y/N runs out the front door and to look for her motorcycle. Sam and Dean chase after her; Dean grabs the sweatpants.

Outside in Dean’s driveway, Y/N is crouching beside her bike. When she’s not crouching down low, she’s bending over. It obvious that her love for her motorcycle trumps her modesty. Not that Dean should complain. A woman bent over a motorcycle wearing nothing but a shirt and panties? Didn’t he see that in a calendar somewhere?

“How did you get him here?” Y/N asks Sam and Dean, not willing to stop inspecting her precious motorcycle.

“Gabe,” Sam answers. “Gad followed in his truck and took him home after that.” Y/N doesn’t hear that second part. She whirls around, jumping to her feet.

“You let Gabe drive my baby?!” She starts hyperventilating. “That man isn’t allowed to drive Black Beauty. Ughh…he should’ve known better. Oh I am gonna kick his tiny ass.” She manages to say between deep breaths. She’s aware that Dean is looking her over. Her current outfit isn’t necessarily outside-friendly. Dean holds out the sweatpants and she takes them, sliding them on easily. She’s taking heaving breaths, laced with anger and anxiety. She looks from one brother to the next. “I have to go,” she says. Dean hopes that he’s not imagining the regret in her voice.

“Yeah, I understand. I don’t like Sammy driving my wheels either,” Deans says, shrugging off any awkwardness hanging in the air. Sam sighs and scowls at Dean.

Y/N follows Sam and Dean back into the house and while she retrieves her phone and wallet in the bedroom, Sam finds the keys for Black Beauty. Apparently, when they’d been leaving the club, Dean had convinced Y/N to switch keys with Sam, her motorcycle keys for the impala’s. So maybe some of the blame was on her but still, Gabe should’ve known better.

Dean walks Y/N back out to her motorcycle. She mounts it and Dean doesn’t know why but even in a tank top and a pair of his sweats, she looks so sexy on that damn motorcycle. He stands there next to her, contemplating his next move. Just like last night, Y/N makes the first move. She tugs on his shirt and brings him in to press a light kiss to his lips.

“Thanks for last night. I had a great time,” she says, starting up her motorcycle. Dean chuckles and nods his ‘you’re welcome.’

As she drives away, Dean stands there wondering if this encounter would be their last. Sam was right, of course, he didn’t want it to be just a one night stand.

 

* * *

 

It’s 11 am when you get to the loft you live in with Gabe, Balthazar and Gadreel. You burst into your home, quickly opening and slamming the door. You’re ready to fight. The three men are lounging on the couch in front of the tv.

“Gabe!” you growl. Before you can say anything else, Gabriel jumps over the back of the couch and bolts to his room. You chase after him. “How many times do I have to tell you?! You can’t drive my motorcycle!” Gabe makes it to his room and closes the door before you can reach him. You pound on the door but you know it’s futile. You quietly wait outside his door, hoping to catch him.

“Did Sam say anything about me?” he squeaks from the other side of the door. You sigh.

“Yes.” Gabe squeals, opens the door and pulls you into his room.

“I want details! Your night with Dean included.”


End file.
